


Welcome to Mayhemtown

by glittergoth



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Other, i haven't decided??, maybe pre-slash, mayhemtown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 06:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14074941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittergoth/pseuds/glittergoth
Summary: Sportacus goes to a restaurant to meet up with Íthró to discuss switching the towns they're responsible for. While he's waiting Glanni approaches him out of curiosity.





	Welcome to Mayhemtown

 

Sportacus was seated in a small pancake house in Mayhemtown. As he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table, he glanced at the clock. It was 10:30 A.M., and he was meeting Íthróttáalfurinn at 11. Sportacus briefly wondered if he could get away with doing some push ups to pass the time, but given the space constraints, he decided against it for now.  

 

Its well known among those that know the twins that Íthró generally has the more intense attitude; despite this aiding in his efficiency at straightening out tougher crowds than Sportacus is used to dealing with, it also results in distraction for him. It’s easy for Íthró to lose track of time if he’s preoccupied with a specific task, and Mayhemtown was always a busy place for a hero, so Sportacus would likely be waiting for longer than half an hour. 

 

Even so, Sportacus hoped he would be early today- Íthró had mentioned Mayhemtown not being a good fit for him, and Sportacus had to wonder if something dangerous had occurred like the incident in Latibæ a few years back. Íthró never forgave himself for getting too sidetracked in the other towns he watched over at the time, even though the Hero’s Association in their village agreed they had his responsibilities spread too extensively and subsequently decreased the number of towns he looked over. Given the amount of miscreant activity in Mayhemtown, Íthró had eventually been promoted to work there exclusively after Number 4 requested a transfer. Since he had asked for the position, Sportacus felt… well, concerned about this meeting. Íthró was so determined to fix the city and find something, or someone, in Mayhemtown, so suddenly wanting to quit had either very good or very bad implications. 

 

Sportacus was startled out of his thoughts by a resounding, charismatic laugh from the bar- he was surprised there even was one in a breakfast establishment. Perhaps it’s a thing in this city? Out of curiosity, he hoisted himself up on his hands to peer through the lattice above the booth. From what he could see, there was only one patron in a bright pink. Figuring he had time to waste, he decided that snooping a bit wouldn’t hurt. 

 

As he turned the corner the excited chattering got louder. Surely enough, a man dressed head to toe in a bright pink suit was talking with the young bartender, who seemed almost too enthralled by his presence. The man in pink flashed a brilliant smile at her and turned to his side to fish a clutch out of his pocket, but as he was turning he met Sportacus’ gaze. His eyes immediately widened and his lips turned down into a pensive grimace.  

 

Sportacus, startled back into reality, figured that the man was creeped out by the fact that he had been standing there staring at him. He forced a tiny grin and gave him a small wave, then quickly leapt over a small set of stairs to stand by the bar. “Sorry! I’m sorry for staring. I just wanted to ask where the bathroom is but didn’t want to interrupt-“ 

 

“Down the hall on the right. You know, the same direction as the giant restroom sign above the hallway.” The bartender snapped before the man could respond. Sportacus winced realizing she was nearly shooting daggers at him, so to speak, apparently not so pleased that they were being infringed upon. 

 

The man, no longer pensive, appeared to be staring thoughtfully at him, if not a little perplexed. Suddenly he turned away and smiled at her once again. “Well, it’s been lovely talking with you, but I really need to get going.” He purred gently, shoving a bill into a rather full tip jar. As he pulled his arm back his elbow smacked into glasses that the bartender hadn’t moved, knocking them to the ground, shattering. 

 

Sportacus quickly turned around. “I could help-“ he offered. 

 

“ _No.”_ She said flatly. “I’ll handle it. Go.” She swiftly disappeared into the back room to grab a hand dustpan.

 

Shrugging, Sportacus turned to go down the bathroom hall, figuring he has pissed everyone off enough to need to follow through with his excuse lest he seem suspicious. As he returned she stood behind the bar, alone, looking sullen. The man must have left by now. 

 

Trying to shrug off the cold interaction as the city's vibe, Sportacus continued to his seat. On his way to the restaurant people hadn’t been very friendly… It’s as if they could sense that he didn’t belong here. As he turned the corner, he had a double take when he realized that the man in the pink suit was sitting in his booth, apparently dumping sugar packet after sugar packet into his water.

 

“Um… Excuse me?” Sportacus laughed nervously. 

 

The man flinched, but then looked up and grinned. “The name’s Ríkkí Ríkí.” He outstretched his hand and winked. “Pleasure to meet you!”

 

Sportacus laughed nervously, but shook his hand. “It suits you. I’m Sportacus… I thought you had to go?”

 

Ríkkí swirled a straw around the water glass, failing to dissolve the several inches of sugar settled at the bottom, then tossed the straw onto the table and took a big gulp. “You look familiar, do I know you from somewhere?” He wiped his mouth. “Oh, and I had to get away from _her_. It was getting pretty _boring_. Want a sip?” He shook the glass, swirling the sugar water concoction.

 

Sportacus chuckled and put his hands on his hips. “You feel familiar too, but I’m sure I’d remember if I had met you. You probably know my twin, Íthróttáalfurinn. He’s stationed here, we’re Elven heroes. I’ll have to pass on the water though. I can’t have sugar.”

 

“Booo!” Ríkkí slumped backwards in the booth. “Who doesn’t like sugar? Everyone likes sugar. It won’t kill you to take a sip.”

 

“Well… It might.” Sportacus was back to feeling uncomfortable. “My body can’t process sugar. If I have any, I pass out.” He smiled feebly. 

 

Ríkkí’s eyes widened in exaggerated shock. “Oh… You aren’t joking are you? I’m _so_ _sorry_ , I guess I’ll be keeping this.” He slid over in the booth and flashed another grin. “Won’t you sit down?”

 

Still unsure as to why Ríkkí was sitting at his table in the first place, Sportacus hesitantly obliged. 

 

“So, tell me,” Ríkkí started, “is this sugar thing… genetic? I mean, does your twin also-“ he mimicked choking, “-when he has sugar?” 

 

“Well, we don’t _choke_ , but yes. I suppose I could die quickly if I had a lot of processed sugars at once, but usually there’s plenty of time for me to correct it. Not that it’s pleasant.”

 

Ríkkí nodded, then began to inspect his manicured nails. Afterwards he reached for _another_ sugar packet- did he intend to pour _all_ of them in his water? 

 

Sportacus felt nauseous just looking at it. He couldn’t stand to watch him intensify a death beverage. He should probably find something to talk about. 

 

“Your, uh, nails look quite nice… Actually, you’re quite distinct from most people I’ve seen here.” 

 

Ríkkí appeared dazed for a moment, but then curled his lips with a vain sneer. “Well, it’s customary for my appeal to be recognized…” He fluffed up the fur lining on his coat and chuckled. “… But I must say, it’s a little unexpected coming from you, no offense, as your brother never had an eye for beauty.” His eyes sparkled as he smiled at Sportacus.

 

_Oh. Shit. Did I just flirt with him? Did he want me to flirt with him? Is that why he’s here?_ Sportacus wondered. 

 

“Well! um… I didn’t mean…” Sportacus tried to gather his thoughts in a cohesive manner. “It’s just that you stand out a lot! Most people here are, not exactly dark! But they kind of blend in. Like they don’t want attention. You just seem so…” How the hell could he describe this guy? “Friendly! You’re nice and you’re glitzy. It just clashes a lot with the culture here, everyone else seems to think it’s not worth it.” 

 

Ríkkí let out a positively delighted coo. “You’re _worried_ about me. How protective!” 

 

“It is a hero’s job to protect-“

 

“But you don’t need to worry about me, doll face. I can certainly hold my own.” He winked and scooted close enough to Sportacus to lean against him. “Are you sure you need to meet with him today? Íthrótta- I mean, _Íthró_ , can wait. Do you want to get out of here? Go back to my place?”

 

Sportacus blinked. _He smells like vanilla._ “… It’s not even 12 P.M.? This is a diner?” 

 

Ríkkí grimaced. “It’s _not_ a diner, it’s a pancake house and bar.” 

 

_As if that makes any more sense_ , Sportacus thought. 

 

“Why does it matter?” Ríkkí pressed.

 

“Well, you see… I guess it doesn’t. I’m just not really one for hookups.” _Does everyone act like this here?_ Sportacus smiled and shrugged. “And I do need to meet with him. We’ve been considering trading our town responsibilities. Which is very serious and I’d miss a lot of good people, though a certain individual would be happy to see me go, for sure. Actually, you kind of remind me of him, but in a good way.”

 

Ríkkí quirked his eyebrow. “So Íthró wouldn’t be here anymore? I mean, I certainly wouldn’t mind having you around. I’m not the _dating_ type-“ He spit the word with venom, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “-but if you’re going to be here I’m sure you’ll need _friends_ , right?” A catlike grin spread across his face.

 

“Yes! Yes, it’s always good to have friends! I’m glad someone understands… You’re the only one that’s been friendly to me, I was beginning to worry about the morale of this city.” Sportacus giggled sheepishly.

 

“How genuinely lucky we are to have found each other.” Ríkkí purred. “We can take care of each other! From our… Respective sides of society.”

 

Sportacus wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but he tentatively relaxed. He was at least grateful to have someone to talk to until Íthró showed up, whenever that would be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna add at least another chapter to this, but I don't think this'll be a very long fic. Mostly for fun and because I love Sportaglanni, though I can't decide if I want this to stay platonic or not.  
> Also, I'm awful at tags. I don't mean like, warning wise, I just have no clue what to tag to make things seem interesting. I should probably add more but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> By the way, did you know there's a website for copying and pasting the shrug emoji? I just think that's funny.


End file.
